He moves.
It starts slow, a steady rhythm that rocks the headboard against the wall.Thump. Thump. Thump.
But then the heat takes over. The rhythm breaks. It becomes messy and frantic. Luke drives into me, hard and fast, and I’m meeting him thrust for thrust.
I’m making noises I didn't know I could make—whimpers, moans, my own name falling from my lips.
“That’s it,” Luke growls, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “Take it. Take all of it.”
He hits that spot inside me—that sweet, electric nerve—and I come undone.
I shatter. White light bursts behind my eyelids. I’m shaking, clinging to him like a lifeline, crying out as the pleasure rolls through me in waves.
Luke groans, his muscles seizing under my hands. He drives into me one last, hard time, and spills himself inside me with a guttural shout.
He collapses on top of me.
We lie there for a long time, tangled together, sweat cooling on our skin. The only sound is our ragged breathing and the distant siren of an ambulance.
Luke rolls to the side but keeps an arm draped heavy across my chest. He presses a kiss to my damp temple.
“You talk too much,” he whispers, but there’s no heat in it. Only affection.
I turn my head to look at him. I feel thoroughly wrecked and completely reconstructed.
“I didn't say a word for the last ten minutes,” I point out weakly.
“Yeah,” Luke smirks, his eyes half-closed. “I found the mute button.”
He runs his hand down my arm, interlacing our fingers.
“You okay?” he asks, serious now.
I squeeze his hand. I think about the label maker. I think about the Gala. I think about running.
“I’m not going anywhere, Luke,” I whisper. “Just so you know. I’m staying. I’m right here.”
Luke brings my hand to his lips and kisses the knuckles.
“I know,” he says. “Go to sleep, Preston. We have rounds in the morning.”
“I don't have rounds,” I mumble, closing my eyes, snuggling into his chest. “I have brunch.”
“You have rounds,” Luke corrects, pulling the duvet up over us. “Because you’re bringing me coffee.”
I smile against his skin.
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s ‘Yes, Doctor.’”
“Don't push your luck, Silva.”
But I stay right there, wrapped in his arms, anchored in Queens, finally, perfectly home.
Chapter 14
The Golden Parachute
